


Close to Perfect

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after the Promised Day, just as Gen. Armstrong is recovering from her injuries, she and Major Miles share a particularly desperate evening together.  What they don't realize is how much difference one night will make in their lives. (Originally posted at fanfiction.net, was removed for sexual content, and I can't find the omake on my hard drive.  I will post it as soon as I rewrite it or find a friend who has it saved.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to Perfect

Olivier brought Scar back to the Armstrong estate, had her family’s personal physician look him over, and then went to her own private rooms to await the doctor for herself.  While her brother was quite comfortable at the military hospital, she preferred her own doctor who knew her versus the ones who only glanced at her chart and were about as personable as she was. 

Torn rotator cuff.  Ice and heat intermittently throughout the day.  Special exercises to regain range of motion.  A sling and rest.  The doctor gave her a prescription for pain medicine and told her to make an appointment for him to see her in two weeks.  She told him she wanted to catch the next train back to the north and he warned her that too much cold could irritate the injury further and to stay put for a little bit.  Olivier harrumphed and sent him away.

About twenty minutes after he left, there was a knock at the door.  “It’s Miles, sir,” came the muffled voice of her favorite person in all the army.  “I’ve got a hot water bottle and some coffee.”

“Come in,” she sneered. 

It was her natural demeanor, and Miles took no offense at her tone.  He’d known her long enough that while she was indeed a tough woman, she consistently wore her heart on her sleeve and showed her full range of emotions with some kind of hostile overtone.

“It’s good coffee, much better than the swill we drink back on the mountain,” he said in an effort to cheer her up.  No doubt she wasn’t happy with most of the day’s news.  The Major thought the least he could do was brew her a premium pot of java to ease her troubles.

“Of course it’s good coffee.  It’s a special blend that my father had imported from Aerugo.”  She saw how he didn’t even react to her angry huffing.  In the back of her mind she wondered how he felt about being removed from the frozen wastes of Briggs and plopped down in the searing heat of his desert ancestors.  And the thought of him being gone, when Buccaneer had already fallen…

“I’m sorry.”  Her voice sounded tired, and her eyes were the blue of a late summer stormy sky, but Miles could detect the sincerity in her words.

“It’s been several hard weeks we’ve gone through, sir.  You’ve every right to be upset with how everything ended.”

“Upset isn’t even the word for it,” she growled.  “I’m proud of Buccaneer for dying like a proper soldier, but that doesn’t mean I like that he’s gone.”

Miles poured the black brew into a very feminine cup, something far too dainty to hold such a strong liquid.  “I know, sir.  He was truly a great man, deserving of all the honors the military will no doubt show him at his funeral.” 

When he handed her the cup of coffee, her fingers brushed against his and they shared a nervous glance…  Never in all the time they’d worked so closely together, had they ever touched skin to skin before.  In Briggs, gloves were only taken off to bathe or use the toilet; they were as permanent as a second skin.  Miles noticed a slight blush creep onto Olivier’s face, the only thing that ever let him know that under all her gruffness did indeed live a woman and not just a brilliant commanding officer.

“Ah… sorry, sir.  I’ll be more careful next time,” he apologized.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, more angry that she allowed herself to show embarrassment in front of her subordinate than angry with him at touching her.  “You have nothing to apologize for, Major.”  She took a sip and glared out the window.  After he’d poured himself a cup, the General spoke again.  “If it were up to me, I’d bring you back to Briggs.  I don’t know what I’m going to do without both of my most trusted men gone from my side.  It’s going to take me some time to find replacements for you both.”

Miles looked up at that, and tugged the snow blindness glasses off.  He slipped them in his pocket, then moved toward her.  “It’s been an honor to serve under you, sir.  I’m looking forward to assisting in the rebuilding of my ancestral home, but I will never feel at home anywhere other than the Briggs mountain.”  He snapped a salute, and waited for her to return it.

And then something strange happened.  He saw a glimmer in her eyes and realized she was crying, at least that’s what he though anyway.  He’d never seen her eyes do anything but look out harshly from her beautiful face.  She returned his salute, then stuck her hand out for a handshake.  “Trust me, Miles.  The honor’s been all mine.  Briggs won’t be the same without you.”

Her handshake was as firm as any man’s he’d ever encountered, but her skin was soft and smooth and warm.  He watched her jaw flex out of frustration when a single tear slid down her cheek and he could read in her eyes that she was cursing herself for allowing him to see her as a weak, fragile woman.  He felt his features relax and soften, and though he was certain she was going to break his arm at the very least, her reached slowly for her face and wiped the tear away.

She broke at his touch.  The woman he’d admired for being the most hard-case person he knew fell to pieces in his arms, gripping his hand tightly as she leaned forward and cried on his chest.  Somewhere in her sobs he heard ‘Please don’t go’ and ‘I’m sorry,’ as well a number of curses directed at herself for sniveling like a schoolgirl who’d lost her dog.  Miles’ other arm wound around her back and he encouraged her to let it out, as it was only the two of them and he would never tell a soul.  The General released his hand and she hugged him, her sobs fading into little hiccups.

“Why don’t we sit down, sir,” his voice rumbled soothingly into her hair.  She nodded weakly in his grasp and didn’t let go of him as he guided them to sit on the edge of her bed.  She wiped at her face with her sleeve, sniffling and apologizing. 

“It’s perfectly alright, General.  Please, don’t apologize,” he shushed.  “Maybe you’d like something a little stronger than coffee to drink.  I’ll go find us some brandy or something,” he said as he turned to go to where he thought he saw a liquor cabinet.  He got no further than that though, as Olivier had reached out and grabbed his jacket.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Without looking at her, he felt the weight of her statement: _Don’t leave me alone in this room, don’t leave me alone on the mountain, **don’t leave me alone when I have nobody.**_ ****

He turned back toward her and took her hand from his jacket and squeezed it.  “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, other than he’d admired her from afar for years and shoved all of his inappropriate thoughts about her into a box in the furthest corner of his mind, but when he saw he tear filled blue eyes, the eyes that were normally as cold as Briggs itself, and looking so uncertain and so sad…  Miles sat down next to her, holding her hand in his, his thumb brushing the back of her hand… and his fiery red eyes bore into her icy blues… and like magnets, the two of them were drawn to each other and met in a kiss.

Miles felt his heart racing under his shirt, partly because he was realizing a very deep held fantasy, but also because Olivier was making the most delicious whines and clutching at him.  Many of her own men speculated whether or not she was a lesbian…  Miles now had definitive proof that she was not.  His tongue made long, loving sweeps against the softness of her mouth and she reciprocated in kind.  Her strong, slender fingers found the hollow of his throat and he offered the General a strangled little grunt.  The need for air drove them apart, and Olivier proceeded to begin unbuttoning his jacket.

“Are you sure about this?” he panted as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“I could make it an order if you’d be more comfortable,” she teased, a hint of a smile on her face.  When his face reddened, she kissed his lips.  “If I can’t keep you on the mountain, I’ll keep you in my bed, even if it’s just tonight.  Besides, I’d always heard Ishvallans are supposed to be rather endowed…” the General husked as she squeezed the bulge in his military issued trousers.

Miles couldn’t help the needy moan that erupted from deep in his chest and he reached out for her shirt, the same stiffly ironed button up shirt that every officer wore under their uniform jacket, and began fumbling with the buttons, desperate to get the damn things to reveal the secret of her breasts but they refused to cooperate.  Olivier reached down and winced as she yanked the cotton shirt open, sending the little plastic disks flying all over the bedroom floor.  He smirked at her before he claimed mouth.  “I like how you think, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir in my bed, Jareth,” she said as he reached back unhooked her bra for him, wincing again.  “You can call me Olivier in here.”  She unfastened her pants as Miles worked the laces of her boots loose, then pried them off her feet and nearly laughed at the pink socks he found underneath.  Shaky hands grabbed the hems of her pant legs and tugged the trousers from her legs, and now all that remained was a pair of military issue panties, practical and white and as sexy as his own tidy whities.  A wriggle of her hips and he had those off of her too, and as he practically leaped out of his own clothing she grinned at him.  “You’re certainly anxious.”

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.  Already he was half way to his first orgasm, and who knew how long it would take him to recover.  “I’ve wanted this a long time,” he finally responded as he slid his underwear off and into the pile of clothing in the floor.

“And you never said a word.”  The blonde General spread wide for him, making a cradle to hold his body with.

“I had too much respect for you to tarnish our good relationship with my physical desires.”

“You were afraid I’d kill you.”  The look on her face was smug; one he expected.  Of course, as long as they’d been together as subordinate and commander, she should be able to read him somewhat by now.

“That, too,” he admitted as he leaned down and found better uses for his mouth at a sweet place behind Olivier’s ear.

She hummed her appreciation and said, “You have no idea how difficult it is to allow others to believe I have no soul in order to keep them in line.  Briggs is a hard place with tough conditions, both with the weather and our dicey relationship with our Drachman neighbors.  If I were an ordinary woman, that base would crumble.”

“You’re talking too much,” he breathed as he nibbled her ear.  “Do you have any rubbers?”

“Check the nightstand,” Olivier answered, her hips rolling against him out of reflex and desperation.

Miles jerked the drawer open and dug around in it, finally hitting pay dirt with an old tin.  It hadn’t been opened, and so he didn’t think anything of it as he rolled it down onto himself.  It stuck to itself in some places, but he finally got it on, and positioned Olivier on her side, placing her outer leg over his shoulder.  “This one is an Ishvallan favorite,” he growled as he slid slowly into her, one thumb pressing against her pink button and the other teasing her other opening.

Olivier sighed and closed her eyes in contentment.  “The rumors are true, Ishvallans _are_ hung like horses!”

“Then giddy-up, General,” he chuckled as picked up the pace.

The writhing body he was loving was more than he could have ever hoped for.  She was tight and warm.  She rippled around him and seemed to suck him deeper inside her perfect body.  She pulled at her nipples and cried out to God and panted his name, his _first_ name…  He had to stop.

“What’s wrong?” Olivier whined, her breath coming in quick bursts.

“Gonna blow…  Gimme a second,” he choked back.  While he settled himself, his fingers worked double time at her other erogenous places.  She must’ve enjoyed this just as much, because ground down against the finger playing at her rear entrance until he indulged her and slipped inside.

Finally, he was able to pump into her again, slow and deep and not nearly as frantic as when they’d first begun.  The General’s hand landed on one of his forearms and begged him to refuse his orders to the desert.  “Please, come back to Briggs!”

“But the frat regs!” he gasped…  He was getting close again; he was going to have to stop again soon.

“We make our own rules on the mountain!  It’s always been that way, and we both need this!” she moaned.  Her insides were beginning to flutter around him, and he knew he should stop his assault and regroup, but it felt so damn good…

It took all of his willpower to stop again, and Olivier was none too happy about it, cursing him to the seventh level of hell.  “Look at me,” he gasped.  Her angry eyes gazed up at him.  “I don’t want to be your toy…  I want more than that from you.  Think about that before you ask me to come back to the mountain.”

As always, her eyes completely gave her away, at least to him who had watched her for so long.  Realization bloomed in her eyes: he’d practically told her he loved her and didn’t want their liaisons to be out of physical need, but for desire for each other… and _love_.

When he saw that she understood, Miles picked up where he left off, only harder than before, slamming deep inside of her and jarring the headboard into the wall. 

 _BAM! BAM! BAM!_  

“OH!  MY!  GOD!”

Olivier’s entire body went rigid and stiff as she clamped down against the Major’s cock.  Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent howl of ecstasy, and her fingers twisted in the sheets as she crested and came.  And as soon as her over wound body began to relax, Miles exploded deep inside her.  He offered a quiet grateful groan to the ceiling as he slowed, and then looked down to find his commanding officer grinning and looking very much like the cat who ate the canary.

He removed her leg from his shoulder and rolled her to her back and collapsed onto her chest while he labored to get his breath back.  Then he felt her hands taking his hair down so she could run her fingers through his snowy locks.

“You were right to tell me how you felt,” she said lazily.  “Can I make a confession to you?”

Miles’ hands slid under her shoulders and squeezed.  “Of course.”

Her fingers slipped through his hair over and over, almost lulling him to sleep.  “I’m obviously not a virgin, but I’ve never done this kind of thing for the right reasons.”  He could hear the smile in her voice as she added, “Until now.”

“And I’ve never done it for the wrong reasons.  Ever.”

“You know our boys won’t tell anyone about us…”

“I know, but there was a reason I was hand picked for this assignment,” he murmured.  “When my work is done, I’ll come home.”

“And who knows how long that inept bastard will keep you out there in that godforsaken wasteland,” she growled, detesting Mustang even more for taking away the only real lover she’d ever had.

“Depending on how well Scar takes to the situation, I might be able to come back sooner.  Have a little faith, Olivier.”  He raised his head and smiled at her.

“I love how my name sounds in your voice,” she said with a small smile on her lips. 

“Then I’ll say it as much as I can.”  He pushed himself up off of her.  “I think it’s time we get cleaned up, Olivier.”

“Take a bath with me, Jareth?” she asked, her eyes dancing with a happiness he hadn’t seen in them in a long time.

“We’ll just end up dirty again,” he laughed.  His hand went to his wilted member to tug the rubber off and he stopped…  He could feel the color falling from his face, even before he heard he concerned voice asking him what was wrong.

For the first time in a long time, Jareth Miles was scared.

The prophylactic had broken, and was bunched up around the root of his manhood, and all of the seed it was supposed to catch was now deep inside Olivier’s womb…

Likely doing what God intended for semen to do…

Oh shit.

He didn’t have to say anything, because Olivier followed his gaze and saw for herself what had made Major Miles go from a virile, masculine lover to a frightened child who looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Breathe, Miles.”

He looked up at her, wanting to say something but unable to make his mouth work.

“Not every fuck ends in a pregnancy.  What was that you were saying about having some faith?”

“I’m sorry-”

“It wasn’t your fault.  Who knows how long that thing had been lying in the drawer.”  She turned, naked and beautiful, toward the private bathroom to the right of the massive walk-in closet.  “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

“If you are, I’ll take responsibility,” he said as he stood up from the bed.  “Please don’t get rid of it.”  When she gave him a questioning look, he said, “All life is sacred, and it will have been made by two people… two people who love each other.  Right?”

Olivier sighed.  “Yes.  You’re right.  But pardon me for hoping that we won’t even have to be faced with that possibility, not yet at least.”  She walked into the bathroom and started the bath water.  “Get in here before the water gets cold.  A nice warm bath will make you feel better.”

Despite his stomach churning nervously, he did as she said.

************************************************************

His first few weeks in the Ishvallan province were hectic.  It seemed the place was swamped with refugees desperate to return to their homeland, and it fell to Miles as to how and where to set up shelters until housing could be finished.  Even with the help of the alchemists building at top speed, people arrived in caravans all day and all night.  He and Scar were happy to know that despite the many that had died needlessly and senselessly, that their race hadn’t been snuffed out.

Every night before he fell into an exhausted sleep, his mind wandered to a desert of another kind, one of ice and cold rather than sand and sun; to a hard woman with a soft body and an endearing giggle that she shared only with him…  He wondered if she was pregnant or not.  Then he wondered why he hadn’t called her just to say hello and let her know she was in his thoughts.

He sat up with a grunt, tugged his boots back on but didn’t bother to lace them, and strode from the military sector to where Scar had set up house.  He knocked on the door and waited for his friend to answer.

“Ah, Maj. Miles,” he said with a smile.  “What brings you by so late?”

“I’m terribly sorry for bothering you,” he apologized.  “I was wondering if I could use your phone for a moment.”

Scar gave him a questioning look.  “You walked all the way here to use my phone when there were ones in the camp?”  When Miles didn’t answer, Scar nodded.  “Of course, my friend.  I understand the need for privacy.  You know where it is, I’ll just be in my study when you’re finished.”  And with that, Scar invited him in and went into the room where he spent part of his time researching alkahestry.

Miles climbed the short stairwell to the upper rooms and dialed out to the military switchboard, requesting clearance to speak with Gen. Armstrong from a secure outside line.  He gave his pass code and was connected.  After a few rings, a groggy voice finally answered the line.

 _“This better be important,”_ she growled.

“It’s me, Olivier.”

There was some shuffling on the other end and she said a little clearer and a whole lot nicer, _“Miles?  Sorry- Jareth?”_

He smiled at her half asleep mumblings.  “Yes.  I just wanted to hear your voice.”

_“You have no idea how badly you’re missed, not just by me, but everyone up here.  I’m glad you haven’t forgotten about us.”_

“How are you?” he asked cautiously. 

 _“At the moment, I’m great.  But ask me again in the morning when I’m puking my guts up and the answer might be much different.”_  

His stomach seemed to plummet into the cellar and he was at a loss for words.

 _“Looks like we’ve gotten ourselves into a little bit of a bind, doesn’t it?”_ she asked quietly.

“Olivier…  I’ll figure out a way to get back to Briggs as soon as possible-”

She shushed him.  _“Right now everyone just thinks I have a bad stomach virus and I’m not going to tell them any different, yet.  For now, we’re not in any trouble so long as you stay in Ishval.  And there’s not much you can do for me right now anyway.  Remember, I watched my mother go through four pregnancies, and you’d just be on the receiving end of my hormonal wrath if you were here.”_   Then she laughed.  _“I never pictured myself being a mother, at least not to an infant.  I don’t mind playing mama bear to these men, but this is going to be a whole different ball game.”_  

“When my commission is up, I’ll drop out of the army and marry you.”

Armstrong positively roared with laughter and Miles frowned.  _“First you want me to bear your child and then you want me to settle down and be your wife!  Why don’t you just put a bullet in my poor father’s head and save him the heart attack when he finds out the Armstrong line will be continued by a man of desert breeding!”_

“I’m sorry if I’ve insulted you,” he said in a hurt tone of voice.  “I’m just trying to make a difficult situation right.”

_“To hell with what my father thinks.”_

His red eyes widened.

_“I’d be proud to be the wife of man like you.”_

“I’ll find out when I can come up.  I want to marry you before the baby’s born.”

 _“Don’t rush on my account.  I should be done puking in about a month, try to wait until then.”_   She was quiet a moment, and then she said, _“I’ve never said these words to anyone but my parents… I love you.  I don’t know when I first knew it, but I’ve never been more sure than right now.”_

Miles was nearly moved to tears, and he took a deep breath and leaned against the wall.  “I love you too, Olivier.  I better go, I’m going to run Scar’s phone bill up with this long distance call.  I’ll write you soon with details of my leave and some pictures and things.”

_“Alright.  Good night, Jareth.”_

“Good night.”

He hung up the phone and sunk to his knees.  A man who had bullied all his life because of what he looked like, a man who found salvation in the form of a Maj. General on an icy mountain to the north who didn’t give a rat’s ass about his appearance, was finally finding that he’d beaten his own odds and would soon have a family of his own…

“Praise Ishvalla,” he said in prayer before standing again.

***************************************************

Six weeks later, they were married in the chaplain’s office.  It was a very small and very private affair with Dr. Kennedy and her newest assistant as witnesses.  He’d bought her a precious palladium band inset with a single diamond and fought tears when he slipped it onto her finger.  Olivier was just beginning to show and Jareth thought she was lovelier than ever.

A honeymoon was out of the question, but their first night as a married couple was nothing short of romantic just the same.  Evidently the good doctor decided to spruce up Olivier’s quarters with lots of paper flowers ribbons made of gauze.  And now that she was already pregnant and he didn’t have to fumble with a dry rotted rubber, Miles was able to take his time and properly make love to his new wife, and he did so several times before they both fell into a sweaty slumber in her double sized bed.

Unfortunately, his leave wasn’t long enough, and just as he was becoming accustomed to waking up next to her every morning and feeling his baby kick every night before falling asleep, it was time for him to return to the desert.

“We’re going to have to tell your parents,” he said the morning he was to leave.  “They have a right to know that there will be a grandchild soon.”

Olivier rubbed her belly, dressed only in one of Miles’ shirts and looked out the small porthole window, one of only four on this side of the fortress.  “My mother will be thrilled.  My father… I can never tell with him.”

“We should probably tell Mustang as well.  Maybe he’ll give me more than a week if he realizes I’m spending time with my new family.”

“If you think he should know, then tell him.  So long as you’re not under my command, we’re not breaking any rules.”  She came to his side and he kissed her full lips.  “I hate that you’re so far away.  If you’re still out there when I go into labor the kid’ll be a week old before you even make it here.”

“Don’t remind me,” he sighed.  “All the more reason to tell Mustang.  I’m sure he won’t let that be the case.”  Before tugging his gloves on, his hands came to her tummy and he sat down on the edge of her bed.  “Be good for your mother while I’m gone.  I’ll come back as soon as I can, little one,” he murmured against Olivier’s taut skin.  He placed a kiss near her belly button and stood to give his wife one on the lips.  “We should think of names.”

She blinked.  “I guess we do have to give the little squirm a name, don’t we…”

He pulled on his coat and slid his snow blindness glasses on, and then held her close one more time before picking up his duffel bag.  “Please try to rest as much as you can.  And get these men to get you whatever you want to eat from North City, and make it an order.”

“I will,” she grinned sadly at him.  “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Olivier,” he replied as he kissed her.  “I love you, and I’ll be back as soon as I can manage it.”

“Have a safe trip, and when you see Mustang give him a good hard kick in the ass and tell him it’s from me!”  When he turned to wave goodbye to her from the freight elevator, she was standing in the doorway to her quarters in his shirt and rubbing her baby bump, giving him that smug smile she wore in front of the others.  He sat his bag down, raced back to her, grabbed her in a bear hug and dipped her backwards as he rained kisses down her throat.

The gunnery squad that was going up for the shift change saw the whole thing and applauded the exchange.  Her cheeks were red with embarrassment, though Miles wore a cunning little smirk of his own.  “It’s alright to let your guard down a little.”

She growled at him under her breath as he righted her, and she barked orders at the squad to carry on and quit gawking like horny teenagers.  “If you want to have any more children, don’t do that again!” she hissed, clearly trying to save face in front of her men.

He snapped a salute to her and smiled.  “Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to miss your train if you don’t get a move on, Major.  Now get going!” she commanded as she returned the salute, mouthing ‘I love you’ and blowing him a kiss where the others couldn’t see.

And then he was back on his way to the abominable wastes of Ishval.

***************************************************************

“General,” Capt. Riza Hawkeye said as she pulled back the flap on the tent Roy Mustang was using as an office.  “Major Miles has returned and he’d like to speak with you.”

“Send him in,” he said as he looked up from the plans for an irrigation system.  Miles gave the General a smile and stood before his fold-away desk.  “You look like you’ve got the world on a string , Major.  I had no idea you were so homesick.”

“Homesick isn’t the word for it, sir,” he responded somberly.  “I was at Briggs so long that it’s worked its way into my very soul.  I truly don’t belong here in this damn desert, but will suffer for a little while longer.”

Mustang cocked his eyebrow at him.  “You sound like you’re making plans to go back already.”

“Well…”  Miles met his eyes and said, “Gen. Armstrong _is_ my four months along pregnant wife.”  Mustang’s mouth fell open, and the Major added, “To be fair though, she’s only been my wife for a week.”

Roy looked at the man with wide, dazed eyes.  “The impregnable wall of Briggs indeed…”

“It didn’t happen at Briggs, sir.  It happened right after the Promised Day, in Central.”  Miles sighed through his nose and fought the urge to roll his eyes when his superior made some smart ass remark about them both being flat on their backs in bed that day.  “My point is I’d like to be with her when the baby is born, which will be sometime around New Years.  With the weather being so treacherous in the north during winter, I’ll have to leave here two weeks before Midwinter’s Eve.  I was wondering if you could authorize me a pass to be gone until spring.”

Mustang pulled out a bottle of whiskey from some hidey hole and poured some of it into a clean shot glass and some into his used coffee mug.  “While I’m very happy that someone cracked that woman’s exterior, I don’t know if I can just turn you loose like that for such a long time.”

Miles looked into the amber liquid.  “I understand you’ll need someone here in my stead who can act as I do and who is as connected to the refugees as I am.  It’s why if I have your permission, I’d like to begin grooming Scar to take over.”

Mustang considered that for a moment.  “If Gen. Armstrong trusts your opinion, then so do I.  If he’ll accept, then I have no issue with it.  In the meantime,” he said raising his mug, “here’s to a long and happy marriage and to many more children.”

Miles smiled and knocked his shot back, grimacing at the slow burning trail it left down to his stomach.  “Thank you, sir.  If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to talk with Scar right away.”

“Of course.  Report back with his answer when you have it.”

Miles left with a grin on his face and a jaunt in his step.  _I’ll be home soon, Olivier,_ he thought to himself.

Scar was agreeable with the proposed situation so long as Mustang respected that he needed to have time to observe daily prayers and act as spiritual counselor to the people while also doing Miles’ duties.  Mustang said as long as those duties were getting done, the timeline was more or less irrelevant, though he could only spare Miles for three months before it would be crucial that he return.  The finalization of the Independence Declaration and last of the infrastructural inspections would be going on, and hopefully soon after the planting of the first crops would happen and then they could all get the hell out of there, with a small contingent of advisors and pseudo ambassadors left behind to aid in whatever way possible, which would probably include Miles although it could be arranged a different way once the people found out about the man’s wife and child in the north.

And so everyday, Scar shadowed Miles for weeks.  They worked together and separately and got much accomplished.  As he waited for his travel date to arrive, he and Olivier sent letters back and forth about baby names, and made heated suggestions about what to do if he arrived before the baby was born.  He asked if she wanted anything special on the trip back, any particular item from the estate in Central, any special food or anything at all she needed, and she answered she only needed him.  Finally, one cloudy day in December (when even the desert cooled by two or three degrees), Miles took off in a troop wagon for the nearest train station, ready to escape the insufferable sand trap in the east.

*************************************************************

He was greeted by a blizzard in North City when he stepped off onto the platform, and the station was making announcements that the rails had begun to freeze in some portions of the track and travelling to the tows on the western arc would have to be postponed until after crews could chip the ice off.  In any case, Miles was glad he arrived when he did, even if it meant waiting in town for a few days until the path up to the fort was passable.  Though he knew the road forwards and backward, in deep snow or just a dusting, if he was even one degree off it could put him way off course.  He decided to phone his wife instead and at least let her know he was close by.

 _“I’ll send the new tank we built,”_ she said happily, as if he were just right around the corner and not ten miles away in one of the worst storms he’d seen in a long time.

“New tank?”

_“We built one that can travel in snow and follow a map with pinpoint precision!  It practically drives itself in conditions like this!”_

“Uh, when should I expect it?” he asked with a hint of trepidation to his voice.

_“It takes about an hour to get it plotted on course.  After that, maybe twenty minutes.  Go burn an hour an a half at the general store.  Maybe buy the baby something, like a rattle or a blanket, whatever you can find is more than what we have now.”_

That sparked a thought in his head.  What _did_ babies need?  Hmm.  Maybe spending a little time in the general store wouldn’t hurt.  “Is there anything you need?”

 _“As I’ve said before, I only need you, Jareth.”_ Then as an afterthought she tacked on, _“And maybe some dark chocolate.”_

“Of course.  I’ll see you soon.”  He hung up the phone and jerked his furry collar up as high as it would go, grabbed his duffle bag, slung it over his shoulder and walked to the bookstore.  Luckily, the shopkeeper was home when Miles found the door locked.

“You came all the way out here in a snow storm for a book, mister?” the man with the thick glasses asked.

“It’s important.  I need a book about babies, and I don’t know if I’ll get back this way before it’s born,” he answered as he came in from the cold.

“Ah, got a little woman ready to burst, huh?” the man smiled as he went straight away to what Miles was looking for.  “I’ve got four myself.  All girls, too.  And let me state for the record that the rhythm method doesn’t work, otherwise we’d only have two.”

Miles chuckled as he flipped through the pages of the book the man tugged off the shelf.  “That there is the end all of baby books.  Takes you through infancy to puberty and everything in between.”

“Will it tell me what all I need before the baby comes?”

“I can see what you’re getting at, so let me make it easy for ya, bud,” the man said, tugging a pencil from behind his ear and a notepad from his pocket.  “Diapers and safety pins, lots of both; about a dozen gowns; at least half a dozen blankets, something bright and shiny and rattling, something soft and huggable, and something chewable that won’t choke the kid or break.  The book tells you how to make your own powder and diaper rash ointment out of stuff in the kitchen.”  He ripped the sheet of paper off and stuck it in the book.  “That’ll take you through the first six months.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“Not a problem.  The book’ll run ya 200.00C.”

Miles paid the man and went two shops down to the general store and bought two boxes full of baby supplies.  When the men came to get him they weren’t anticipating him having so much stuff and had to shuffle their seating arrangements in order to make the trip safely back to Fort Briggs.  Eventually, they made it, and Miles hustled up to his wife carrying all of the things he’d brought back with him.  After their, return, the men said she was in her office, so he went instead up to their quarters to drop off his parcels.  He took the box of chocolates and went to find her, and when he did he almost did a double take.

She was radiant, glowing, motherly and beautiful, and positively three times her size.  Not only was her belly big, but so were her legs, her cheeks, her hands, her breasts…  _Oh god, her breasts!_

Miles shut the door to her office, laid the candy down on her desk, and leaned down with a searing kiss as he began to knead her huge, milk swollen tits.  “Why are you in this office knowing I was coming home?” he asked between kisses.

“What are you talking about?” she gasped as he pinched her nipple through her modified uniform.  “I look hideous!”

“No, no…  You’re _mouth watering_.”

“Ugh, seriously?  You like this?”  Miles grabbed her hand and let her feel for herself what she was doing to him.  “You’re sick, Jareth.”

He stopped and pulled away from her, opening the chocolates and stuffing one in her mouth.  “Shh, now why don’t you remind me how sweet your ass is and bend over this desk for me..."

Their tryst didn’t last long because the staff clerk was in a world of his own when he opened the door... and promptly fled when the General began threatening dismemberment with her bare hands.   They redressed, regrouped and moved back to their quarters where they resumed and reveled in the Major’s return.  Twice.

Afterward, he covered her in kisses and held her close to him as he finally felt himself beginning to relax. 

“So when do you have to go back?” Olivier asked.

Miles snuggled up to her back, her wider, broader, thicker backside laying plush and warm against his body.  “Mustang told me to call after the baby’s born and we’ll arrange something then.  Until then, I am all yours, General.”

Olivier gave a soft laugh.  “Let’s stay in this room until I go into labor.  Let’s stay in this bed and never leave until my water breaks.”

“Okay, now that’s gross.”

“What, you like this fat body but not the fluid surrounding the baby you made inside me?”

“I just happen to think your voluptuousness is much sexier than bodily fluids…”  His fingers slipped down and pulled at her swollen breast.  “Although, I am very interested in this particular fluid.”  She swatted his hand away gently, grumbling about taking food from a baby and he kissed her neck.  They were quiet a moment, and then he murmured, “I love you, Olivier.”

The blonde woman patted the hand that rested on her very large belly.  “I love you too Jareth.  I’ve missed you so much.  I hope we get so snowed in that you can’t ever return.”

“We can only hope, my dear,” he said as he began to doze off, his nose buried in her golden hair and her body in his arms.  As the snow flew outside, the ground and sky became the same indistinguishable gray, and as Maj. Miles drifted off to sleep in a cramped bed and chilly room, he thought he’d never been so close to heaven before.

*******************************************************

Two weeks later, the second to last day of the year, Olivier’s back began to cramp and her stomach began to spasm into contractions.  Dr. Kennedy had the General come down to the floor that their small medical facility was on and instructed Miles to walk her legs off.  “You’re not going to like this, General, but you’re going to have to put that bathrobe and those woolen stockings on.  I can’t deliver a baby through pants, no matter how advanced our instruments are.”

“Fine!” she yelped as contraction raged through her body.  “ _You_ wrangle those damn stockings on me!  And that’s an order!”

“Olivier, you need to calm down-” Miles said as he tried to settle her down.

“It fucking hurts!” she wailed.  “Why do women do this over and over!?  And this bitch wants me to walk in this kind of pain!?”

Dr. Kennedy took a deep breath.  “Gen. Armstrong, if you walk it will speed the labor process up and get this over with quicker.  Of course, if you’d rather lie here until after New Year’s in this kind of pain, be my guest.”

Finally the contraction eased and let up.  Olivier was able to breathe again and she calmed considerably.  Then those stormy angry eyes that Miles knew all too well from his years of observing her before they were married shone fierce and undaunted from her lovely face.  “I’ve felt worse.  And it won’t kill me.  I can do this.”

Hours and hours passed.  They walked, they sat, they walked more, and then Olivier had a pain that shot through her so hard she screamed and hit her knees.  With some help, Miles got her into the wheelchair and flew back to the medical office where Kennedy had prepped a bed and had the stirrups ready to go.

“Alright boys, let’s get her up on the table; this party’s just about over.”  Once Olivier was up and her feet guided into the awkward metal footholds, Dr. Kennedy shooed all the men out of the room.

“Jareth, don’t go!”

“No ma’am!  Men don’t need to see this!” the doctor protested.

“You send my husband out of this room and I’ll send you out into the deepest snow bank!”  She started crying as she sat up and cried that she needed to push.

The bespectacled woman pushed her sleeves up and said, “Alright, come on Major, we don’t have time to argue about this.  Go hold her hand and give her some leverage.”  Miles whipped his jacket off and flung it somewhere, reached out and grabbed Olivier’s hand and guided her to lie back.  “Good lord, this child’s already crowning!” Miles heard the woman exclaim.  “General, the next contraction, bear down and push hard!”

Olivier took a few panting breaths, then grit her teeth and pushed, nearly crushing Miles’ hand in the progress.  Her voice exploded from her chest in agony and echoed off the sterile walls.  “IT HURTS!!!” she screamed, taking a moment to breathe before pushing again.

“After this one, take a rest!” the doctor cried out, holding up her hands in the universal signal to halt.  Miles saw from his vantage point that she’d grabbed a suction bulb from a nearby table and was cleaning something gooey from something else, lots of what looked like mucus and blood… and he fought the urge to vomit and merely looked away.

“You’ve got that white as a sheet look to you again, Jareth,” she teased with a pained grin.

“I think I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“We all come into this world the same.  This happened to you, too,” the doctor said as she suctioned more gunk away.  “Your baby looks like its mother!”  Miles and Olivier shared a little excited smile, and then the doctor ordered, “Take a deep breath and gather your strength, General.  One last big push and it’s all over.”

Doing as she’d been told, Olivier gave it all her might, and the baby slipped from her body and into the warmed blankets Dr. Kennedy held in her outstretched arms.  Miles saw two metal forceps come off the tray table, as well as a pair of surgical scissors that came back bloody.  A little swat to the infant’s tiny butt and a healthy cry came bellowing out.

“Looks like she sounds just like her mother too!” the doctor beamed, holding up the swaddled and gunky looking child up for her parents to see.

“It’s a girl?” Olivier asked weakly.

“Yes, a beautiful healthy girl!  Let us get her vitals down and get her cleaned up and then she’s all yours!” 

The assistant handled the afterbirth and cleaning Olivier up, then once Olivier had managed to catch her breath and Miles helped to get her sweaty hair off of her neck and sitting in a more comfortable position, Dr. Kennedy brought the tiny little girl over to her parents.  “Those famous Armstrong blues missed her, I’m afraid.  This little angel’s got her daddy’s fiery red eyes.”

Miles and Olivier looked over their daughter with amazement.  This life they’d created wasn’t just an idea anymore; it was here, in their arms, and it was a girl.  Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, full lips like her mother’s, her mother’s delicate nose and brow, her father’s ruby eyes.  Right away, she could smell nourishment and she took eagerly to Olivier’s breast.

“We never decided on a name,” Miles whispered as he stroked his daughter’s cheek while she suckled. 

“Give her an Ishvallan name,” she said quietly.  “Something pretty and feminine and nothing ‘old world’ like my name.”

Miles thought for a moment, trying to recall the most beautiful name his grandfather had ever spoken… and then he had it.  “What do you think of Haleema?”

“It’s beautiful.  Haleema Miles.”

“No middle name?” he asked, not that he cared, only that his wife had a middle name and wasn’t sure if she even remembered that at the moment.

“No, she won’t need one.  One name is enough.”  She smiled as the babe dozed on her chest.  “Haleema is perfect."


End file.
